


Mortality or Lack Thereof

by creivel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creivel/pseuds/creivel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He supposes that he should really be more careful, but nevertheless, Eren doesn’t regret having to leave the final say up to Armin when his life hangs in the balance after an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortality or Lack Thereof

Eren had expected there to be some accidents while maneuvering through the ruins of the Titan-infested Trost, sure, but none quite of this severity, and not with _him_ as the casualty.

The campaign against the titans is positively _filled_ with surprises, it seems.

Eren tries to shift his weight a little and is reprimanded by splitting pain shooting up his spine. He swears brokenly, gritting his bloodied teeth, and cautiously relaxes a little back into the paved ground. He blinks against the cloud of dust kicked up by the building's collapse, squinting down at himself in an attempt to better see his wounds.

His legs are pinned tightly underneath the rubble, but he is at least able to wiggle the toes of his right foot, and for that much he is grateful. Eren has a feeling the other leg may be beyond saving, and at that thought, he briefly remembers the sight of his mother half-buried under the remains of their house, hopelessly trapped and awaiting death. There is a simmering anger in the pit of his belly at the memory, but also a sort of bitter amusement.

 _Not gonna be like that time,_ he thinks to himself as he releases a long, painful breath through his nose and begins his wait.

“Eren? Eren!” A frightened voice calls out, and Eren feels meager relief wash over him as he recognizes the voice of Armin. He has no desire to sit through another long lecture about his safety from Mikasa, though there would definitely be no escaping it once he was free of his crushing prison.

“I'm here,” he replies, disappointed at the hoarseness in his voice. He could at least _try_ to sound fine as to not send his friend into a complete breakdown.

“Eren! Oh _god_ ,” Armin cries, eyes wide in panic (too late) as he sees Eren's fallen form. He raises a hand and covers his own mouth for a moment, and Eren watches as his eyes flick from him, to the rubble, and back to him again. What is it like, he wonders, in that brain of his?

“W-we need a medic and I need to get someone; I can't get you out on my own. I'll find Mikasa and we'll--”

 _Please don't bring Mikasa._ “Armin!” Eren barks before wetting his dry lips and tasting copper. There's a bit of alarm at the prospect of him bleeding from the inside, but it quickly fades. “Armin, it's going to be fine. _I'll_ be fine, don't worry.” He says, but Armin's gaze snaps to him with such intensity that Eren fears he may have said something horrible.

“Eren, have you _seen_ yourself? You're half--” his voice breaks and he pauses, but swallows hard and continues as calmly as he can manage, “you're nearly half crushed right now. I don't know if you can use your legs, but from here, neither of them look very good. Your head is split open and you could be bleeding from internal injuries. None of that is _fine_.”

Eren's tongue darts out again and catches a bead of blood that had pooled on his upper lip. That explains the horrible taste lingering in his mouth, at least.

“One of my legs is fine, I think, or it will be. The other is not coming out in one piece,” Eren explains, watching Armin blanch. “Even with Mikasa and whoever else, this rock here isn't going to budge.” With some pain in his stomach as he forces himself to sit slightly upward, he rasps the back of his head against the stone atop him. “It would take a lot more than a few people to move this. I should be able to, though.”

Armin inhales sharply with realization. “You aren't seriously going to-- You're on thin ice enough as it is, and I highly doubt the Commander is going to let another spontaneous titan incident slide.” He edges closer and lowers himself onto his knees, yanking out loose bricks from around Eren and flinging them to the side. Eren thinks Armin is intentionally ignoring how the action is a useless endeavor, only serving to coat his hands in Eren's blood and more grime, but he appreciates it nevertheless.

“Not only that, but you can hardly even control yourself when you're a titan. There's only me here, and if I end up not being able to get through to you...”

“Well, I _do_ have another idea, but you're not going to like it, either.” Eren glances upward and watches in fascination, and perhaps a little morbid curiosity, as vapor rises from his head in gentle wisps. “Most of these injuries will heal on their own. As long as I can get free, it won't be a problem. You have your blades with you?” Eren asks, his blond friend nodding slowly in justified suspicion.

He pointedly looks at his lower half and Armin's gaze follows his. “There's a bit of my thigh uncovered that I can see, but I can't get to it. You should be able to reach it and have enough of an angle to cut through it.”

“ _Cut through it_?” Armin repeats in an indignant squawk, “I can't just cut off your _leg_ , Eren! I can't--”

“Those blades are designed for titans, so it should be easy. You said it yourself, Armin, that I didn't look very good. My leg will regenerate with time, just like before, but I'm in a bit of a situation _right now_. I don't know the details of my abilities, but I don't think being squashed like this is going to assist them in any way.”

“I-I don't think I can...” Armin trails off, eyebrows furrowing as he forces his eyes tightly closed. “Dammit, Eren, I can't do that to you! If I hit your femoral artery and you don't regenerate... If it doesn't work you'll _die_!” His lower lip trembles and Eren wonders if he's holding back tears. He's gotten better at that, as of late. “You'll bleed to death and it'll be my fault.”

A tense silence stretches on for several seconds, and Eren thinks back to the last time his life hanged in the balance, the corners of his lips tugging back.

“If you can't, I won't blame you,” Eren says softly. Something familiar sparks in Armin's expression, and he brings his full attention back to Eren, meeting his eyes. “If you can't cut me out, I'll turn into a titan to break free. We only have those options.”

He forces a weak smile. “You always know the right decision, Armin. If you think you know what would be the best idea, I'll trust you on it, but you need to figure it out now before I'm too weak to survive either.”

Determination lights up Armin's eyes, and in that moment, Eren sees his tremors cease. It's truly a sight to behold: witnessing his friend break out of his shell in their most dire hour, letting go his anxiety and self-doubt. It's then that Eren always knows he's made the right choice in whom to entrust his life to.

Armin nods sharply and unsheathes his blade.


End file.
